


Eyeful

by Icecat62



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray figures something out about Thatcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyeful

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on RedSuitsYou@yahoogroups.com - 07/03/2004.  
> For Ellen :)

Vecchio looked across the squad room at Thatcher as she talked to Fraser. Well talking wasn’t what he would call it. She was doing more along the lines of reaming him a new ass.

He winced as she let loose a tirade that would have made a Marine Sergeant proud. He smiled at how Fraser just stood there and took it all in stride. His expression was blank, his voice modulated into something like a snobby waiter trying his best to calm down an irate customer.

Ray chuckled at how the more Fraser responded calmly to her, the angrier Thatcher got.

His chuckle faded as he looked her over. Her breasts heaved and strained against the tight white blouse she wore. He swore he could see her nipples poking through the sheer material.

His eyes were drawn to her perfectly painted red lips, then they trailed down the rest of her body. His eyes lingered on the tight skirt. He began wondering what kind of underwear she had on underneath the short length of material.

His jerked back from his desk and frowned. Did he just think about Thatcher in her underwear?

When she turned away from Fraser in disgust and stomped out the door, he felt like he had been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Thatcher and thoughts of her in lacy womanly underwear just didn’t mix.

As Fraser approached his desk, he jumped up and ran past him.

“I’ll be right back Benny!”

Fraser looked at the empty doorway that Ray had run out of and shrugged his shoulders slightly. With a contented sigh, he sat down at the desk and began filling out a report.

**********

Running down the hall, Ray prayed he’d catch Thatcher in time. He had to have her yell at him…anything…to get the vision of her in racy black underwear out of his head.

He shuddered as his mind pictured her bent over his desk; her ass perched upward, waiting for him to have his way with her.

“Oh God! No not that!”

He chanted a mantra as he skidded around the corner of the hall.

“I don’t want Thatcher! I don’t want Thatcher! I don’t want Thatcher!”

He came to an abrupt stop as he ran into said person of his chant. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of legs and arms.

As he pushed himself up off the floor, Ray got a good view of just what Thatcher was hiding under her skirt.

“Holy shit!”

Thatcher’s dazed eyes jerked up to look at Vecchio, her expression quickly darkening.

“What is the matter with you?!”

Vecchio stared between her legs. She didn’t have on lacy black underwear. No red thong. She had nothing on save her stockings. Blissfully sheer stockings.

Thatcher finally noticed where he was staring, her eyes widening in shock. Grasping her skirt hem, she yanked it down as she quickly closed her legs.

Scrambling to her feet, she glared at him as he also stood.

“How dare you!”

Vecchio frowned.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you. I just needed to hear you yell at me.”

Her pissed expression quickly turned to one of confusion.

“What?”

He gestured weakly with his hands.

“You were yellin' at Benny and I was watchin' you and then I noticed your breasts…”

Thatcher’s eyes widened and she quickly crossed her arms across her chest.

“Then I started thinking about what type of underwear you wore and…”

“My underwear? You thought of my under garments?!”

“Well, yeah. And that’s why I had to find you before you left. I couldn’t let you go with me thinkin' about you in your underwear. That’s kinda’ sick ya’ know.”

Thatcher’s mouth dropped open slightly, her expression still miffed, but now also confused.

“Thinking of my under garments makes you sick?”

Vecchio smirked slightly.

“No, not sick, I kinda’ liked the idea of you in your underwear and for me to think of it…that’s sick.”

She stared back at him, her confusion quickly being replaced by anger.

“And why is the idea of me in my underwear something that would make you sick? I’m not…I’m not deformed or anything!”

Vecchio leered.

“I’ll say you’re not.”

His eyes widened in shock at what he heard himself say. He took a step back. He did not just make a pass at Thatcher. She was…she was Thatcher!

She stood in front of him, her chest moving up and down in time with her heavy breathing, her mouth was slightly open, her eyes glittering dangerously.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Vecchio stepped forward and grabbed Thatcher, planting a lip lock on her. As soon as he kissed her, he pushed away from her, his expression horrified.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I’m sorry!”

He gave her a panicky look as she just stood and stared back at him. He flinched involuntarily as she jumped forward and slammed him against the wall.

Now he was the one pressed backward, his lips being assaulted.

When she pulled away from him, she straightened her skirt.

“Would you care to dine with me tonight?”

He pointed a finger at himself.

“Me? You want me to eat dinner with you tonight?”

Thatcher resisted the urge to slap him.

“No, not you, I’m asking the man in the poster on the wall!”

“Oh. Sure. I’m free for dinner. What time?”

She stared directly into his eyes.

“Seven sharp. At the Consulate. I’ll be at my desk.”

She gave him a quick nod, then turned and strode down the hall and out of view.

Vecchio stood against the wall in shock. He was going to have dinner with the Dragon Lady! He cringed again as his mind headed straight for the gutter. Now all he could think of was eating Thatcher as she bent backward over her desk, her dark hair fanning behind her.

“Oh God…no…I can’t. Not her.”

Taking a deep breath, he knew he was screwed. He cringed again. He wanted Thatcher.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

His scream echoed down the hall and into the bullpen. Heads jerked up from their work.

Dewey looked at Huey.

“What in the hell was that?”

Huey shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. Probably some drunk.”

Fraser sat at Vecchio’s desk with a small smile on his face. Ray had finally figured out how he felt about Thatcher.

End


End file.
